


A Collection of 100 Brokeback Drabbles

by Sid401k



Category: Brokeback Mountain (2005)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-06-24
Updated: 2007-10-03
Packaged: 2017-12-27 04:33:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/974390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sid401k/pseuds/Sid401k
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>  <span class="u">More</span>, the theme song from the movie <span class="u">Mondo Cane</span>.</p></blockquote>





	1. Drabbles 1-20

Pairing: Jack/Ennis  
Rating: ?? So far, language, hints of sex, nothing graphic (sorry!) yet...  
Disclaimer: Annie Proulx invented them, Diana Ossana and Larry McMurtry expanded them, Ang Lee guided them, and Heath Ledger and Jake Gyllenhaal interpreted them. I'm just playing with them.  
Comments: Why not? 

#  001\. Beginnings

_ Jack’s thoughts _ :Piece a shit truck.That must be the other guy.I wonder how long he’s been waitin.Pretty unsociable sort—won’t even look at me.Hope he lightens up or it’s gonna be a long summer.I kinda like him though—damned if I know why.

_ Ennis’s thoughts _ :Wonder how much longer before the hirin guy gets here.That pickup ain’t much, but at least that fella didn’t hafta hitch to get here.Must be the other guy.Bit of a showoff, ain’t he? Hope we get along okay.I kinda like him—damned if I know why.

#  002\. Middles

“Ennis?”

“Whuh?”

“I was thinkin…”

“Bad habit, bud.”A pause.“Okay, what was you thinkin?”

“Oh, just remembrin them Brokeback days…”

“We had us some times, didn’t we, Jack?”

“Sure did.Y’know it’s just ten years.1963 to 1973.”

“Huh.How ‘bout that?Don’t seem that long, does it?”

“Sometimes.Sometimes it seems longer, y’know?”

“Yuh.Maybe.”

“Anyways, it was summer then—July.And it’s July now.Tryin a remember the date.Could be our anniversary…Or somethin.”

“Mmhh.”Another pause.“C’mere.”A kiss, a grope, a sigh.“Mighta been the 12th.”

“That’s today.”

“Yeah.Shut up and let’s fuck.”

#  003\. Ends

Ennis can’t put his finger on exactly  **_ when _ ** it ended.He doesn’t know why this is important, just that it is.The obvious point is the moment of Jack’s death.That’s when all the possibilities—however likely or unlikely—collapsed into a single impossibility:the impossibility of ever seeing him again, holding him again, making anything wrong between them right again.But it might have been at the trailhead, the last time he saw Jack.Or the returned postcard that told Ennis Jack was gone.It  **_ did _ ** end.But if it’s ended, why does it keep on hurting so much?

#  004\. Hours

North on US-287 to Amarillo.Then US-87 and still north, just barely missing the Oklahoma panhandle.Across the northeast corner of New Mexico to US-64 in Raton, just before the Colorado border.Straight shot north through Colorado—try to miss rush hour in Denver. Cross the Wyoming border and into Cheyenne.Pick up US-20 near Casper and follow it west to the little town of Shoshoni, by the Boysen Reservoir.Then south for a change on US-26, just a hundred miles to go now to get to Riverton.Fourteen hours.If you don’t pay no mind to the speed limits.

#  005\. Days

Ennis wakes early, used to ranch hours.Jack’s accustomed to rising at eight, except weekends when he sleeps in till nine or ten.This is vacation, and might as well be a weekend, you’d think, but Ennis gets him up (more ways than one) around six, which Ennis thinks of as sinfully late.Early to bed, too, which Jack doesn’t mind, because it can be quite a while before they get to sleep.Simple food, cooked over the open fire.Beer and whiskey.Talking, or just being together in companionable silence.The days are too short.And too damned few.

#  006\. Weeks

Think in weeks and it’s not so bad.Months are too long.And days, there’s too many of em.Every week is a line on the calendar.Cross off a week and you’re down an inch, inch and a half, closer to the next trip.Closer to Jack.And it’s only four weeks—and a bit—to a month, and four or five months between trips.Four is a bearable number.Course there’s seven days in each week.But days are short.Each one with its own duties.Distractions.Get up, work, eat, wash, go to sleep.Dream of Jack.

#  007\. Months

“November? What in hell ever happened a August?”  _ Six months, six goddamned sonovabitchin months instead of three.Six months of beating off, sneaking around with Randall, half the time can’t even get it up, missing Ennis so bad I’d trade a week of my life for one day with Ennis, fuckin stupid asshole can’t see that we might as  _ ** well ** _ be dead if we ain’t together, hurts so bad, tire irons couldn’t be this bad, but Ennis can’t see that, he  _ ** won’t ** _ see it…Shit. _ “Christ, Ennis.Y’know you had a fuckin week to say some little word about this.”

#  008\. Years

“Four years.Damn.”

“You keep sayin that.”

“Tell you what, I just can’t believe…”

“Whut?”

“Ah, nothin.”

“Can’t believe what, Jack?”

“Oh, I dunno.Can’t believe we waited so long, I guess.Or maybe can’t believe I’m really here.Or…How bout you, Ennis?What can’t you believe?”

“Me?I dunno.”He lights a cigarette contemplatively.“Glad to be here, though.Glad you’re here.You know that, don’t you, Jack?”

“I think your smile at the top of the stairs kinda gave me a hint.Or maybe that kiss at the bottom of the stairs?Ya think?”

“Yeah.Four years.”

#  009. Sea

Jack’s never been to the coast, but still he knows the sea.With Ennis, he’s caught in a riptide of emotion, washing over him, taking him where it will. He bathes in Ennis, drinks him in thirsty gulps: sweat, spit, semen.He floats peacefully, buoyant on the ocean of Ennis.Or drowns in despair, throat and lungs burning, in the storms.Then there’s the crashing surf of sex, when he’s tumbled out of control, riding the waves, faster and higher, hurled onto the shore with a blast of foam, and lies quiet on the beach, gentle waves lapping over him.

#  010. Shore

“What’re you waitin for, cowboy?A matin call?”Lureen Newsome is a good catch:young, pretty, rich.Well, it’s her Daddy that’s rich, but same thing.She’s a damn fine rider, too, horses and men. Jack likes it that she takes the lead, prefers it.He’s drifting, rudderless, and he knows it.He’s gone as far as he’ll go, bullriding—hit his peak.Time to move on to something else.Two years now since Brokeback, and he still misses Ennis—thinks of him every day.Jack likes Lureen, even loves her some; marriage with her looks like a safe haven.

#  011\. Faith

“So when are we ever gonna see this Ennis Del Mar fella?”

“Well, soon, Daddy.I hope.”

“What kinda soon?Tomorrow?Next week?What’s he to you, anyways?Or should I be askin what’re you to him?”

“He’s a friend.We’re friends.He’s good with stock and he’s a hard worker.And I don’t know exactly when…”

“Friends, huh?”

“Another slice of cake, Jack?More coffee?John, if a friend of Jack’s comes to stay and help, he’d be welcome.I’m sure it’ll work out fine.”

“Thanks, Mama.And I know he **_will_** come, I just don’t know exactly when.”

#  012\. Trust

Alma Beers knew she had herself a good man.More grown-up and steady at nineteen than many at forty-nine.Took a summer job, sheepherding, just to earn money for them to marry on.And now she’s Alma Del Mar.Her man works hard, though he doesn’t make a lot of money.Maybe too quiet sometimes, but never raised a hand.Treats his little girls right, never too proud to change diapers, or too tired to tell stories.Likes a beer or two, sometimes a whiskey, but not like some that drink up their whole pay.A man to be trusted.

#  013\. Respect

The herder has lots of time for thinking.What the hell got into Jack this morning?Know what didn’t get into him, and that’s Ennis.Just asked for a quick blowjob before headin out, and Jack’s off and rantin.“I’m camp tender, now, so I do the cooking and the chores.And we fuck, too, and I like it.But that don’t make me your whore, Ennis, so don’t you think it and don’t you treat me like it!”Then Jack turns away and slams the tinware around as Ennis rides off.Ennis thinks maybe he  **_ was _ ** out of line.

#  014\. Joy

Six-pack of beer and three packs of smokes into the day, Ennis is drowsing half in despair on the sofa as he hears a car pull in.Hurries again to the window, feeling like a fool.It’s a pickup, new model, dusty—from a long trip?Door opens, cowboy gets out, looks up…Jack!Ennis doesn’t remember going out the door.Finds himself on the balcony, looking down at Jack, Jack looking up at him, same blue eyes, same thousand-watt smile…“Jack Fuckin Twist!”Ennis hurtles down into Jack’s arms, same strong arms, same feelin like home, home at last.

#  015\. Sorrow

“I hear you’ve been having a hard time at home, lately.Want to talk about it?” the guidance counselor asked.

“Well, I guess you heard my Dad died…Mama told me it was an accident, changing a tire, but she won’t say anything more.She cries a lot, but it seems like she’s mad more than sad.She’s had some kind of big fight with her friend Lashawn—Dad’s friend Randall’s wife, except now they’re getting divorced and Randall’s leaving town.I keep thinking it’s all got something to do with Dad dying, somehow.Wish I knew what it’s about.”

#  016\. Purple. _(With a tip of the ten-gallon to louisev.)_

“ **_ What _ ** are you  **_ wearin? _ ** ”

“Whataya mean, Ennis?It’s what I always wear:boots, jeans, shirt, jacket, hat.”

“That shirt, Jack.It’s **_purple!_** ”

“Yeah.Lureen picked it out.Says it goes with my eyes.You think so, Ennis?”

“Jack…Jack, doncha know what they say about guys wearin purple?”

“They’re sexy?”

“That they’re **_queer_** , Jack.Ya might as well wear a sign.”

“We’re in the middle a nowhere, Ennis, and the wildlife can’t read.You think it goes with my eyes?”

“Yeah, okay, it goes with yer eyes.Ya look real sexy.”A leer.“How fast can ya take it off?”

#  017\. Red

The sheep lies gutted on the hillside, ripped open, red insides exposed to the elements.Like Earl lay, ten years before, red wounds on his arms and legs and body, red emptiness where…Red blood all on the ground.Blood on Ennis’s dick this morning, too.Red lust last night.Ennis feels himself blushing—more red.That thing they did last night was over almost before it was begun, but the memory burns like fire in his mind.Ennis wants to kill Jack Twist, wants to fuck him till he begs for mercy, fuck him while he begs for more.

#  018\. Black

_ He’s a nice lookin guy.Wife’s okay, too, but sort of distant and artificial.Good Samaritans, glad they stopped to help us out.He’s polite, too, dancing with Lashawn.Looks sharp, dressed all in black: boots to hat; fine black leather blazer.Black hair, sexy moustache, and those blue, blue eyes.I wonder… _

“…drink a little whiskey, fish some, get away.Y’know?”

_ Yeah, he knows.Isn’t sayin yes, but he isn’t sayin no, either.Looks sad.Lonely.Well, hey, Jack, I’m lonely, too, so how about we do somethin about that together?Here come the girls.I’ll try again, later. _

#  019\. White

My little girl.Gettin married.All in white, bridesmaids in pink, Kurt and the ushers with pink bowties.White flowers everywhere.Jenny singin like an angel.Bet I look like a fool in this monkey suit.But Junior wants me here to give her away.So here I am, all this white stuff around, in front of God and everybody.How many of em know?Alma, a course, and she musta told Monroe, tho he ain’t said nothin to me.Junior don’t know, or she wouldn’t of wanted me here.Here in front of God and everybody, white all around.

#  020\. Blue

Blue, blue eyes.Never saw eyes that blue.And that smile.And the way he looks at me.He cleans up nice, but he looked good even rolling in the dust.Started out kind of shy, but not so shy now.Strong arms, beautiful mouth, lips as soft and sweet as I don’t know what.Little rough around the edges, maybe, but a real gentleman at heart.Nasty bitches, sayin he’s maybe queer.Nothin queer about the way he’s playin with my breasts; he likes em, for sure.Daddy won’t like him.T’hell with Daddy, and t’hell with midnight, too.

[](http://www.shinystat.com)   


 


	2. Drabbles 21-40

Pairing:Jack/Ennis (mostly canon, some A/U)

Rating:??Language, sex—some M/M and even a little M/F sex, occasionally graphic

Disclaimer:Annie Proulx invented them, Diana Ossana and Larry McMurtry expanded them, Ang Lee guided them, and Heath Ledger and Jake Gyllenhaal interpreted them.I'm just playing with the action figures.

Comments:Yes, please.

# 021\. Friends

Alma walks quickly to the grocery store with Ennis’s shouts following her.She **_has_** to work, Ennis’s ranch jobs just don’t bring in enough money—careful as she is about spending, the bills still mount up and fall behind.And this is a good job, nearby, reasonable pay.And Monroe is a fine boss, such a kind, sweet man.Always understanding; always helpful.A friend more than a boss.Might be he wishes he could be a little more than a friend, but Alma’s a married woman, and they both respect that.A decent man.And a good friend, too.

# 022\. Enemies

Jack Twist is the enemy.Alma knows this, but has no idea what to do about it, except hang on and do her duty, hoping Ennis will come to his senses.She can’t talk to nobody about it.How it’s not just those “fishing trips”—they’re only a few weeks in the year.It’s that she doesn’t really have Ennis the rest of the year either.He works, eats, sleeps, spends some time with the girls.Never wants to go anywhere.Seldom wants sex, and then she knows who he’s thinking about.All for Jack Nasty—nothing left for Alma.

# 023\. Lovers

The first time, there wasn’t time to think.Ennis was awake, enraged, aroused, in, finished, out, and asleep again, all in a handful of minutes.There was time to think after, though.Time for shame, anger, remorse, confusion, anger again, and burgeoning desire.“That was a one-shot thing last night,” he thought to say, meaning never again.But what he actually said meant more like all summer.He approached the tent shyly.Jack deserved better than to be fucked like an animal.Ennis didn’t exactly know how to make love.But he was willing to learn.And Jack to teach.

# 024\. Family

K.E. Del Mar is eleven years old.His brother Ennis is nine.Their sister Megan is fourteen, but sisters don’t hardly count.Ma and Pa love them all.“This is for your own good,” they say.Ma says it about vegetables and medicine; Pa says it about lickins.“Pay attention, K.E.” Pa says, “cause you’re gonna be the next man in the family, and then the family’ll be yours to take care of.”This makes K.E. both proud and scared.“Come on,” Pa says one day.“Gonna show you somethin you need to see.Ennis, you better come along, too.”

# 025\. Strangers

They call him Señor Azul—Mister Blue—for his eyes.They know what he likes:tall, rangy men with brown eyes and dark blond or light brown hair, not too much older or younger than him.He rarely fucks them; he’d rather be fucked himself.Blowjobs?Sometimes he gives, sometimes takes.He never wants to know their names, never socializes.He just shows up, cruises until he finds someone suitable, and goes off to a room with him.He’s well-liked because he’s both considerate and generous.They never see him smile.They’re strangers to him, though they know him well.

# 026\. Teammates

Jimbo’s heard a rumor or two about Jack Twist.He doesn’t **_seem_** like the type, but you never can tell for sure.He’s a nice enough guy, friendly.And appreciative, which not all bullriders are, sometimes cussing out the clowns just because **_they_** couldn’t keep their asses on a bull’s back for more than three seconds.You wouldn’t catch Twist pulling shit like that.Good ride or bad, he thanks you for running in front of an angry bull and luring him away.He’s popular enough with the ladies, so it seems, but still those rumors…Better just avoid him. ****

# 027\. Parents

“Barbie is the mommy and Alan is the daddy…”

“Jenny, **_Ken_** is Barbie’s boyfriend!”

“I don’t like Ken’s hair.And Scooter and Skipper are their little girls, kay, Junior?And they’re playing dolls.And Barbie—the mommy—says, ‘Can’t you girls be quiet?’And Alan says, ‘C’mon, darlins, lets go for a walk and pick dandelions.’And…”

“Dandelions!They’re just weeds!”

“Well, I like em.Where’s Barbie’s fishing pole?I need it for Ken, cause he’s Alan’s fishing buddy.”

“That means Barbie’s gonna cry.”

“No, she won’t, cause Alan’s gonna bring home **_lots_** of fish and make her so happy!”

# 028\. Children

_Cute kids.Jenny’s got a big friendly smile.Junior’s holding back some.Guess she’s a little reserved—just like her Daddy!How old are they now?Ten and eleven, I think.I guess Ennis must be takin them home.Or maybe out to eat.That’d be nice; I could get to know them better.I’m gonna enjoy watchin them grow up.Bobby’s eight—close enough to play with, if they’re ever around all at one time.Ennis’s girls, my Bobby—three kids between us.That’s a nice family._

“Got your card sayin the divorce came through.So…Here I am!”

# 029\. Birth — A/U

Ennis on his side on the hill, watching the distant sheep, rifle by his side.Jack sits down near his feet.

_“Jack, I wanna…”“What, Ennis?”“Don’t make me hafta say it…”He rolls._

“Y’know,” Jack says, “Last night…If you don’t want…That could be just a one-shot thing, y’know?”

_“Oh, God, Ennis, you’re like silk!”“More, Jack!Fuck me, fuck me hard,_ **hard!** _”_

Ennis smiles ruefully.“Nobody’s business but ours.”

_And after, “Stay with me, Jack.Stay in me.”_

Jack smiles, too, looks down.“Well, you probly figured it out by now:I’m queer.”

“I guess… me, too.”

# 030\. Death

Growing up on a farm, Ennis can’t even remember the first time he’d seen death.Animals die—they die from disease or in accidents; they’re slaughtered for food; they’re killed by predators.People die, too.By age nine, Ennis has been to three funerals, and seen the bodies in the caskets.But this is different—no accident.Is being queer a disease?Or is this a death by predator?Will Earl have a funeral?Who will go to it?Who could look at his face in the casket without thinking about how he died?

Part of Ennis dies here, too.

# 031\. Sunrise

Ennis wakes in the red dawn, pants around his knees, with a top-grade headache.He’s in the tent, with Jack.He remembers…He doesn’t want to remember.He pulls up his pants and moves out of the tent.Everything looks so normal.How can everything look the same when everything has changed?He’s got to get up to the sheep.That’s his job, and right now that’s all he’s got to hang onto.Here’s Jack coming out of the tent.Will he be angry?Or hurt?Or lovey-dovey?Ennis can’t face him. What will Jack say?

“See you for supper.”

# 032\. Sunset

Summer in the mountains, sunset comes late.Sunset means supper is over, and it’s time to go back up to the flock and keep watch.That’s the job they were hired on for.Sunset also means shadows and firelight flickering over Jack’s face, a sight Ennis never seems to tire of.He peers surreptitiously from the corners of his eyes, shielded under his hat.When Jack looks right at him, eyes wide open, with a little smile and a small tilt of the chin toward the tent, saying, “Well...?” Ennis thinks, _sheep be damned_ , and pulls Jack into his arms.

# 033\. Too Much

“You’re home early.”

“Cut the meeting short; they ain’t really serious buyers.You’re early, too, Lureen.”

“Oh, finished April and decided not to start on May.Told Marta to take the rest of the night off.Maybe we could…”She was interrupted by Bobby’s cry.

“I’ll get him,” Jack told her.“He’s just hungry and needs his diaper changed.”

“You sure?”Lureen still had a hard time believing that Jack was willing to do baby care.

“Why not?I’ve looked after horses, cattle, thousands of sheep…One kid is easy.”

“Cattle?Horses? ** _Sheep?_** ”Lureen laughed.“Jack, you are too much.”

# 034\. Not Enough

Bobby fed, burped, changed, and sleeping, Jack rejoined his wife in the bedroom.“Hey, honey, did I hear a matin call?” he teased.

“Why, you in a matin mood?”

He undresses and slips into bed beside her.“Mmmm.I sure married the purtiest little gal in Texas.”Her nightgown has a row of little pearl buttons.Jack starts undoing them, his fingers shaking a little.

Lureen sighs happily.“You always say that.”

“S’always true.”He slips a hand around her breast, gently brushing the nipple.She’s so sweet and soft and fragrant.Jack really wishes that was enough for him.

# 035\. Sixth Sense

How could Ennis not have known?How could he have just gone on, day by day, for weeks or months, remembering Jack, thinking of Jack, dreaming of Jack, thinking of how he can make things better with Jack…And all the while, Jack’s dead, and Ennis doesn’t know.950 miles isn’t so far that he shouldn’t have heard the tire irons, felt them strike, known when Jack fell.But he didn’t.He just went on, as usual, eating, drinking, working, resting…It’s a betrayal of sorts.Jack didn’t let him know.And Ennis **_should_** have known, **_somehow,_** without being told.

# 036\. Smell

Pine, sage, cropped grass.Scents of weather:rain, snow, hail, ozone tang of lightning, dew at night or dawn, sharp mountain wind.A thousand sheep, dogs mostly dry but sometimes wet, untanned coyote hide, cat piss or worse.Coyote, deer, skunk.At the camp, coffee, whiskey and beer, beans, bacon, elk jerky, onions frying. Or onions burning.Wood smoke and fresh cut wood, horses and mules, leather scents from saddles and bridles.Dirty socks, clean shirts, soap.Musty tent, and inside it, Ennis, Jack, cigarette smoke, sweat, semen, sometimes shit.Lust has its own scent.What does love smell like?

# 037\. Sound

Jack is shameless: he groans, he pants, he sighs; he lets out anguished moans.Oh, and he talks, too, pleading for more, faster, harder.“Yeah,” he says.“Oh, God, yes, yes, just like that.Christ, it’s good, so good, so fuckin good!”And comes with a piercing cry.Don’t think you can shut him up by filling his mouth, either.He can still grunt and moan and whimper; and he will.And then he’ll get that mischievous look and he’ll start in sucking and lapping and slurping.It’s enough to drive a man crazy.Enough to drive his man wild.

# 038\. Touch

Jack contemplates his sleeping lover.He wishes Ennis could be more relaxed—could enjoy himself more.Jack loves running his hands over Ennis’s body, kissing him, nuzzling him.There isn’t one part of Jack’s body that doesn’t love the feel of Ennis, nor is there any part of Ennis’s body that he doesn’t love to touch.He knows Ennis feels the same, and that it frightens him, making him hold back and deny himself pleasure—pleasure that Jack wants so much to give to him.He caresses Ennis’s arm, slowly and lightly, again and again.Ennis sighs in his sleep.

# 039\. Taste

_“You come back and see us again.”_

Mama Twist—he can’t help but think of her that way—had put her request so mildly that Ennis felt impelled to honor it.He knew that he was all she had left of Jack.Whatever she knew or guessed or believed about his relationship with her son, she felt the connection.So Ennis came back.Twist Sr. was derisive and rude, as expected.Mrs. Twist said little, though she touched him lightly a few times.In his grief, the cherry cake tasted like cardboard.

She is all he has left of Jack.

# 040\. Sight

Oh.Her.I wish Daddy hadn’t brought her along.I was hopin to have him all to myself for just this once.I guess she’s nice enough.Sure is pretty.And lively, which I guess Daddy needs.But he doesn’t seem happy with her.In fact the only time he really seems happy is just before and after those fishing trips with that Mr. Twist.Maybe he’s just one of those guys that gets on best with other guys.A man’s man, like they say.Or…My Daddy’s **_all_** man.Some men are like that.Just not the marryin kind.

[](http://www.shinystat.com)  



	3. Drabbles 41-60

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   More, the theme song from the movie Mondo Cane.

Pairing:Jack/Ennis (mostly canon, some A/U)

Rating:??Language, some M/M sex, pretty graphic in spots

Disclaimer:Annie Proulx invented them, Diana Ossana and Larry McMurtry expanded them, Ang Lee guided them, and Heath Ledger and Jake Gyllenhaal interpreted them.I'm just playing around.

Comments:If you would be so kind.

 

# 041\. Temptation.

_Jack was right.Damn pup-tent does smell like catpiss.Or worse.Wish both of us could be down in the camp.Sittin after supper, drinkin and talkin. **Jack** talkin.Ain’t he somethin?Different.Like him, tho.Share the tent nights.Warmer, the two of us together._ A yawn. _Real warm, close together.Smooth skin, hard muscles.Mmmm.Nice, real nice, Jack.Slow and easy; yeah, like that._ A sigh. __

_What am I thinkin?Should be thinkin about Alma, not Jack.Ain’t neither one of us queer.Must be more tired than I thought.Better get some sleep._

_Ahhh, Jack, Jack!_

#  _0_ 42\. Whisper.

“Sometimes I miss you so much I can hardly stand it.”

Ennis shifts uneasily, looks away, says nothing.

Later, when Jack wakes in the middle of the night, he talks to Ennis.“Meant what I said about missin you,” he says, so softly.“Wish we could be together more’n just a week or ten days, two or three times a year.Hell, wish we was livin together, place of our own, be a sweet life…Love you, Ennis, you gotta know that.Know you love me back, even though you won’t never say it.”

Ennis sleeps, unaware of Jack’s words.

# 043\. Nightmare.

_Nice spread we got here,_ he thought proudly, smiling, and looking out over the fields…Then he saw motion back near the house.Three men.Tire iron rising and falling.Heard the impact.The choked groan.Tried to run; could barely move, like wading in glue.Tried to shout; could only whisper, “No!Not him!Me!Take me!It’s my fault, take me!”

He woke, sweat-drenched, gasping, heart pounding.Staggered, weeping, to the toilet and vomited.Afterward stared into the mirror at the middle-aged queer with his red-rimmed blue eyes.Finally made his decision.“I’ll be there in November, Ennis.”

# 044\. Bittersweet.

“Little ranch.You and me.Could be a nice life.”

“Yeah.Well.Sorry, but that ain’t gonna happen.”

“Why?Why should you settle for being somebody’s second best?His dirty secret?”

“I ain’t his second best.And how **_d’you_** like bein **_my_** second choice?Cause I ain’t gonna lie to you—that’s what you’d always be.”

“I’m willing to give you time…”

“And bein my dirty secret?”

“Lureen…”

“No, not Lureen, nor Lashawn neither.I told you about Ennis; but d’you think I told him about you?”

“Jack, you know I do love you.”

Very gently.“Yeah, Randall, I know.”

# 045\. Guilt.

As always, Ennis woke early.After emptying his bladder and making a pot of coffee in Cassie’s efficient little kitchen, he went back to lie beside her till she woke.He felt out of place in this feminine bedroom, like a feed sack among designer handbags.But Cassie looked out of place at Ennis’s trailer as well—a pearl necklace worn with overalls.

He liked her, enjoyed her company, appreciated her exuberance.And she liked him—God knew why.She was surprisingly undemanding in bed, easy to satisfy.And yet… too often he looked at her and wished for Jack.

# 046\. Star.

“Star light,” says Ennis.Junior and Jenny (ages five and three) echo him, “Star light…”

“Star bright, first star I see tonight.I wish I may, I wish I might, have the wish I wish tonight.”He recites the rhyme slowly, pausing every few words for the girls to repeat them.“Now, close your eyes and make a wish.Don’t tell anybody what it is.You just keep it secret.”He looks at the little sincere faces, eyes shut and brows tight with concentration.What are they wishing for?Dolls, candy, ponies?Ennis wishes he was in Jack Twist’s arms.

# 047\. Moon.

Jack pulls up his pants and puts on his jacket before heading out to their primitive latrine.Ennis is out like a light.Will he even remember in the morning?The night is damn cold, and the soft pre-dawn light makes it feel even colder.He squats over the straddle trench they’d dug downwind of camp, and the cool air feels sorta good on his ass.He’s elated and despondent, hopeful and dismayed, starry-eyed and shocked, all at once.Jack looks up at the full moon—still high and bright—as though it could tell him how he should feel.

# 048\. Run.

“All summer?”

“It’ll give us some money to marry on.Pay ain’t great, but I won’t have no livin expenses, and there ain’t nothing to spend it on.”

Ennis knows he’s expected to marry Alma, and he wants to.But he also wants…Some time to himself.He’s barely twenty, and soon he’ll be promising “till death do us part.”He feels guilty, but there’s a sense of wrongness about this marriage, though when he tries to think what that wrongness might be, his thoughts slip and slide and he gets nowhere.

A summer on the mountain should settle him.

# 049\. Hide.

She had seen what she had seen:her husband and his friend embracing, kissing… Alma walked into the living room, hunched over, gut-shot.Of course she knew there were queers, but this…This was like seeing a new color.Not a color related to anything familiar, but an entirely new hue, from some unknown spectrum.They kissed like they wanted to consume each other.It had never occurred to Alma before that two men would or even could kiss.When she heard them coming up the stairs, she tried to look like she was searching for something in her handbag.

# 050\. Play.

“So, waddaya wanna do today, bud?”

“Hey, Rodeo, waddaya **_think_** I wanna do?”

“Y’know, Ennis, L.D. calls me Rodeo and it ain’t a compliment.You call me Rodeo and **_I’ll_** call **_you_** Hot Stuff.Waddaya think a that, Hot Stuff?”

Ennis choked.“I think I’ll see yer Hot Stuff and raise ya…”He pondered.“Baby Doll!”

Jack gagged.Yer bluffin, **_Snuggle Bear_**.”

“No, I ain’t, **_Lambie-Pie_**.”

“Lamb pie, huh?” licking his lips seductively.“With gravy?” he leered.

“Ya like gravy, do ya, Lambie-Pie?”Ennis grinned.“You just c’mere and yer ‘Snuggle Bear’ will give ya all the gravy ya want.”

# Ennis Remembered… – Musings while Eating Apple Pie.

These next 5 are a group:Water, Fire, Earth Air, Spirit.They all start “Ennis remembered…” 

#  051\. Water.

Ennis remembered the tap dripping into the sink, counting down to Alma’s accusation.Now he heard it in his mind, echoing his thoughts.

Drip, drip.She knew.

Drip, **drip.** She **knew.**

But she’d never said anything—not to him, not to the girls, not to anyone—for all those years.She let him take the girls, always coolly polite to his face, never badmouthing him behind his back.She was upset about Jack.Naturally.She was angry.She had every right to be.But she didn’t hate Ennis.Didn’t despise him utterly.She even seemed… to still care a little.

# 052\. Fire.

Ennis remembered the flickering of half a thousand camp fires, lights and shadows playing across Jack’s face, hands, body…Just thinking of Jack’s face in the firelight has always calmed Ennis—made him feel happy and peaceful, like the world was a good place.

Jack, the dreamer, wanting them to be together all the time.Truth be told, Ennis had the same dream.Difference was, Ennis knew dreams from reality.

But you didn’t want it, Ennis!

He had no right to say that.Ennis burned for it and Jack should have known that, even without Ennis saying it.Shouldn’t he?

# 053\. Earth.

Ennis remembered the dusty road he’d walked once in 1953 and hundreds of times since in nightmares, Earl’s mutilated body haunting him for nearly thirty years.

And what about Rich?Going on alone with only his memories of his time with Earl…They’d been there when Daddy came in 1935, so eighteen years together.At least.

For the first time, Ennis wondered if maybe eighteen years together with a tire iron at the end of it wasn’t still a better bargain than eighteen years mostly apart, with that heartbreaking fight and parting last May in the dusty trailhead parking lot.

# 054\. Air.

Ennis remembered the smoky, beery atmosphere of the bar when Cassie dragged him off to dance, introducing herself as she pulled him along.She was cute, and fun…A lot like Jack in a lot of ways.But—unlike Jack—she stirred little sexual interest in him.He’d been seeing her for a few years now, but every time he fucked her, Ennis became more aware that he’d far rather be making love with Jack.And now he’d just dropped her—ignored her messages, avoided places they might meet.

He took a breath.Maybe it was time to face it.

# 055\. Spirit.

Ennis remembered that special feeling of being whole whenever he was with Jack.Remembered the sense of something missing—something important, essential—when they were apart.As though Jack carried half of Ennis with him and took it away when they parted.

They fit so well together:playing, fucking, cuddling, working…A line from an old song crossed his mind:“waking, sleeping, laughing, weeping…”

Ennis’s thoughts always returned to Brokeback:the filly with the low startle point, Jack’s constant bitching, the endless beans…Ennis saying, “I’ll stick with beans.”The set of Jack’s jaw as he said, “Well, I won’t.”

**Note:** More, the theme song from the movie Mondo Cane.

_More than the greatest love the world has known_  
This is the love I give to you alone.  
More than the simple words I try to say  
I only live to love you more each day…

_More than you'll ever know_  
My arms long to hold you so,  
My life will be in your keeping  
Waking… sleeping… laughing… weeping…

_Longer than always is a long long time_  
But far beyond forever you'll be mine,  
I know I never lived before  
And my heart is very sure  
No one else could love you more.

Hear this song at: <http://www.piano-bar.com/pages/more.htm>

 

# 056\. Breakfast.

Lureen studies literature on the latest combine attachments while sipping alternately at a cup of black coffee and a canned diet breakfast shake.Jack one-handedly eats a rather sloppy fried egg sandwich, while his other hand shovels oatmeal into Bobby’s widely grinning mouth.Bobby bangs his spoon enthusiastically on his highchair tray.

“Why’s he got that spoon, Jack?He ain’t usin it.”

“Sure he’s usin it.Just not to eat with.”

Lureen rolls her eyes.“Jaaack…”

“Okay then, let’s clean you up.”Jack is wiping Bobby’s chin as the babysitter arrives.“And here’s your date, cowboy!”

“Jaaack…” Lureen repeats irritably.

# 057\. Lunch.

Alma lays out five slices of bread on the counter:Junior, Jenny, Ennis, Ennis, herself.Each gets a quick smear of margarine.Then seven slices of bologna (two each for Ennis’s), four slices of cheese (none for Jenny), and five leaves of lettuce.Five more slices of bread, each with a lick of mayonnaise, and five passes with the knife (vertical for Junior, diagonal for everybody else).Wrapped up tight in waxed paper, tucked into four brown paper bags, each with a piece of fruit—bananas for the girls, an apple for Ennis, and an orange for her.And napkins.

# 058\. Dinner.

“For what we are about to receive, may the Lord make us truly thankful.Amen.”

“Amen.”

“Amen.”

A platter of chicken gets passed around the table, followed by mashed potatoes, gravy, and snap beans.

“Cranberry sauce, John?Jack?”

“Yuh.”

“Sure thing, Momma.Missed your cookin somethin awful.”

“You’re back early, boy.Aguirre fired you for somethin, huh?”

“Nope.Big storms comin—wanted em brought down early.Ennis was bellyachin about the short pay.”

“Ennis?What kinda name is that?”

“Just a name.”

“Ennis is the fella who you worked with, son?Did you get on well together?”

“Yeah.We did.”

# 059\. Food.(“If music be the food of love, play on;” Shakespeare, Twelfth Night)

Not only had Jack brought that goddamned harmonica, but he seemed determined to serenade Ennis with every song he knew.

“Now try this one,” Jack said, drawing breath.

Ennis grinned, closing his eyes, thinking of lovesick cats and tormented waterfowl.He recognized the tune—barely.Even liked it, when Dolly Parton sang it.

“Jolene.”

Jack nodded and smiled—as much as a man can while playing harmonica.

Ennis hummed along, varying the words in his head. _Lureen, Lureen, Lureen, Luree-een.I’m begging of you please don’t take my man…_

_What the **fuck!!** Don’t be a damn fool!_

“Let’s eat, huh?”

# 060\. Drink.(With simple-minded apologies to City Girl.)

The day had been hot, and the night promised more of the same when Ennis got home—later than usual and wanting a beer badly.He walked directly across to the kitchen.Opened the drawer for the bottle opener on his way to the fridge.The cool air hit him like a blessing from the opened door.The bottles rattled when he reached in and grabbed one.He popped the cap and gulped it down.Reached for another and asked, “Jack, you want one?”There was no answer.He hadn’t expected one.The shirts hung motionless in the sultry air.

 

 

[ ](http://www.shinystat.com)

 


	4. Drabbles 61-80

 

Pairing: Jack/Ennis (mostly canon, some A/U)

Rating: ?? Language, bits of M/M and (don’t be too shocked) M/F sex here and there, kinda graphic in places

Disclaimer: Annie Proulx invented them, Diana Ossana and Larry McMurtry expanded them, Ang Lee guided them, and Heath Ledger and Jake Gyllenhaal interpreted them. I’m just playing with them.

Comments: Yes, please.

  ****  
  
Jack Remembered… – Musings while Driving to Lightning Flat.

 

**061\. Winter.**

Jack remembered early snow. Not much and didn’t stick, but still enough to say summer was finished and winter begun—no autumn. One night, a couple inches of unseasonable snow, a visit from Aguirre, and that was that. Summer romance ended. And his sweet, passionate lover was gone, replaced by a distant near-stranger hurrying to walk away from an embarrassing acquaintance.

“I guess I’ll see ya round, huh?”

Yeah. Right. No address; no phone number; not comin back next summer.  ** _Where_** _around are ya gonna see me, Ennis?_  Temperature mighta been in the nineties, but it was winter for sure.

**062\. Spring.**

Jack remembered sitting by the campfire with Ennis, both of them looking up at the stars, both of them just happy to be together once more—spring in their hearts. Four years, damn. How had either of them survived?

And yet, for all the rightness of their being together, even after the incredible, mind-shattering sex, and with both their mouths practically still wet from the unrestrained passion of that shocking no-holds-barred kiss—Ennis was going to walk away from all they could be together.

And wasn’t Jack the fool to think his sweet life could blossom in Ennis’s bitter frost?

**063\. Summer.**

Jack remembered horseback riding on summer days, high in the mountains. Dry crushed pine needles, horses swishing their tails at flies. Him and Ennis ambling along, talking about not much, just enjoying the sound of each other’s voices. They’d swim in chilly lakes, ducking and splashing one another like kids, laughing, shoving, and then making love in the shallows and on the shore. Supper by the fire, bitching about the cooking, passing the whiskey. Sleep cuddled close and wake together.

Again the next day and the next. Until Ennis left once again. And so the summer always ended in snow.

**064\. Fall.**

Jack remembered that clear crisp late autumn day. He’d been on cloud nine, even singing along with the radio, “King of the Road.” So sure that his wait was over and his patience finally rewarded. That sweet life for him and Ennis—a dream born twelve years ago on Brokeback Mountain, four years later proposed to Ennis and rejected—was finally going to become reality. And then to be turned away…

Well. That disappointment was five years past, and Ennis hadn’t changed his mind. Like falling off a mountain: he could pretend he was flying, until he hit the ground.

**065\. Time.**

Jack remembered the all the times he’d spent with Ennis. Counted it up. So long in years, but so short in days. Thinking about it, he figured he’d probably spent near the same amount of hours with Randall as with Ennis—maybe more—even though he’d only met Randall three years ago.

Jack wasn’t getting any younger.    And Randall—a sweet, loving man—wanted them to have a life together. So how should Jack spend his time? Should he waste it waiting for Ennis, who was never going to come round? Or waste it living with Randall, wishing for Ennis?

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**066\. Rain.**

It had rained all week, and now it looked to rain all weekend. Head aching, faintly nauseous, Alma wondered if she was pregnant or just late. The girls were stir-crazy—running through the house, shrieking. She’d had her first real fight with Monroe last night—about housekeeping. Alma sniffed. Let **_him_** try to keep a perfectly neat house with a thirteen-year-old and an eleven-year-old around.

Ennis probably would’ve been glad to have an extra weekend with the girls, but he was off “fishing” again. Rain probably ruined his whole trip. Bet he was wet and miserable—him and Jack Nasty.

**067\. Snow.**

Snow is falling as Ennis tears out of the house, girls calling anxiously after him, “Bye, Daddy! G’bye!” Has to get out of there. Get away before he does some damage.

Parks across the street from the bar. Sonofabitch in a pickup nearly runs him down, starts cussing him. Good enough. Ennis punches him through the truck’s window, forgetting his anxieties with the rush of adrenaline. The guy jumps out, hitting back, hard. God, he’s big. Throws Ennis against the truck, knocks him to the ground, starts kicking him. Ennis curls up in the slushy street, dealing with the pain.

**068\. Lightning.**

“What’re we supposed to do now, huh?” Jack asked.

Cord, with the superiority of his twenty-six years, spat contemptuously. “Burn em and bury em. Shit. Aguirre’s gonna have our asses on toast fer this.”

They ate fresh mutton that night, and dried what they could. Then backbreaking labor, with the dead sheep growing ranker, the flies more irksome, and the smoke—burning flesh, fat, and wool—more nauseating as the days passed. The forty-two carcasses finally eliminated, they celebrated with an orgy of washing. That night they rubbed off against each other, Jack coming quick and hard, Cord soon after.

**069\. Thunder.**

The old bullrider felt the storm coming long before he heard or saw it. His left knee gave accurate forecasts, and his right shoulder and elbow cast their votes the same: big thunderstorm on its way, probably tonight.

Yesterday, he’d been cussing cause the hay didn’t get cut. Storm would delay that even further. If Jack was here—with or without this Ennis fella—they’d’ve got the hay all mowed yesterday—just in time for it to get soaked and ruined. Just about what he’d expect from Jack. John Twist spat in disgust as the first rumbles heralded the storm.

**070\. Storm.**

Jack Twist was on a rampage tonight. “God ** _damn_** it, Ennis,” he snarled, “This shit has been goin on for too fuckin long.” He scrubbed his arm across his face, hating the wobble in his voice. “I am just so… fuckin… **_sick_** … of this stupid we-ain’t-queer **_bullshit_**. I’m in love with you, fuckhead, and have been since ‘63. And I won’t pretend no more that I ain’t!”

His anger faded suddenly, leaving him exhausted and faintly nauseous. He dropped onto the sofa with his face in his hands, glad that Lureen hadn’t come home and caught him yellin and cussin at nobody.

**071\. Broken.**

Jack checks his grip, gives the okay. The gate crashes open and the bull—a nasty bastard deceptively named Breezy—explodes into the ring with berserk fury.

Balance and grip, clenched thighs, one hand gripping hard and the other waving high. The eight-second buzzer goes. Jack manages a smooth dismount, rolling to absorb the impact and to get away from the bull.

Breezy isn’t distracted by the clowns; he goes right for the rider. Jack barely manages to get to safety, trips and slams hard into a post, feeling ribs crack. He shrugs. Ain’t the only thing busted in there.

**072\. Fixed.**

“Dearly beloved…”

Jack twitches. He knows who **_his_** dearly beloved is, and it isn’t this gas-bag preacher, or any of the wedding guests.

“Who giveth this woman…”

L.D. would rather give him a kick in the ass. He’d been making ever-higher offers for Jack to take himself off—like this was only about money.

“Do you, John Charles…”

“I do.”

“Do you, Lucille Darlene…”

“I do.”

Lureen’s a fine woman; they’re a good team. She has things he lacks, in more areas than just the financial. Speaking of which, it’s clear that—stay or leave—Jack is set for life.

**073\. Light.**

Jack stretched, feeling damn good this morning. The lightning-killed sheep were all buried, plus he’d got his rocks off last night. And, damn, hadn’t it felt good! Who’da thought **_Cord_** …

Jack eyed him warily. How would that change things between them? He hoped Cord wasn’t going to try to blame Jack when it was Cord who made the first move.

But it was all right. Cord punched Jack in the shoulder—friendly-like—and told him, “Don’t mean nothin. It’s just what you do sometimes when it’s either that, your hand, or the sheep. Doesn’t mean a thing.”

“Right,” Jack nodded.

**074\. Dark.**

Alma lies awake in the dark. When she’s sure Ennis is fast asleep, she gets up and moves hesitantly to the bathroom. She’s in pain, burning, and has a strange, illogical fear that her body will come apart—legs falling one way, torso another, guts spilling onto the floor.

She sits on the toilet, no lights, can’t face herself in the mirror. She needs to go—to void Ennis’s seed, planted where nothing can bloom. But the clenched tightness of her body’s reaction won’t let her.

She knows that Ennis is a good man. She weeps quietly, trying to understand.

**075\. Shade.**

Bobby sits alone in his room with the blinds closed, fighting tears. He’s fourteen years old—practically a man—and Men. Don’t. Cry. His grandpa told him that. If Grandpa came in right now, he’d be real disappointed to see Bobby sniffling and wiping his eyes on his sleeve. Probably be angry. Dad wouldn’t have been disappointed **_or_** angry. Dad’s only… dead… a couple of days, and Grandpa’s already saying stuff like how he’ll be a better father figure. Bobby doesn’t want any stupid “father figure;” he wants his Dad. Man or no, Bobby sobs, heartbroken, in the dim room.

**076\. Grief.**

Not until Ennis decked him did Jack realize that this **_was_** just a one-shot thing, after all. Till then, he’d just optimistically assumed that Ennis felt the same as he did, and that they’d surely plan out **_some_** way to stay together. But that punch—Ennis stalking off afterward without a word—explained a lot. Why the short season hit Ennis so hard. His surly refusal of a loan. His sulking while Jack did all the packing up.

An unsuccessful try for a meet-up next summer, and Jack had to drive away. His cheek ached, but his heart ached worse.

**077\. Tears.**

Breaking it to the girls was hard. Alma had to do it—Ennis refused. “Divorce is your idea. You tell em.”

She fell back on the old platitudes. Momma and Daddy don’t get along no more, so we’re going to live separate. We both love you and Daddy will be back to see you a lot.

And the girls reacted as children will. Pleading. Tears. Don’t you love us? And, of course, Please, we’ll be so good, we promise. As if it was somehow their fault. But promise of good behavior was simply the only coin they had to offer.

**078\. Lies. and 079. Truth.**

Alma was naturally curious about the old friend whose visit Ennis was anticipating so keenly. “So what’s he do?”

Ennis was uneasy at her questions, afraid of raising suspicion _(suspicion of what?)_ by his answers or by not answering. “Sheep-herdin. Rodeoin—bullrider—won some prizes—belt buckle—real proud of it…” He smiled reminiscently. “Remember once him actin out ridin a bull. Yellin and jumpin around till he tripped and fell on his ass. We was near sick laughin so hard.” Ennis chuckled affectionately, then caught himself and said dismissively, “Half-drunk young fools.” A pause. “But we was good friends.”

**078\. Lies. and 079. Truth.**

“Just a trip up north to see some guys I used to know.” Jack tried to keep it casual, natural. “Have a couple drinks, shoot the shit, catch up… Y’know.” It sounded weak and he knew it.

“But, Jack, what I don’t understand is why **_now_**? You ain’t give a thought to these buddies of yours for years, and now all of a sudden, in the middle of the prime sellin season, you’re gonna drive a thousand miles to say hi, which you coulda done on the phone.”

“Lureen…”

She sighed and smiled a little. “A guy thing, huh?”

“Yeah.”

**080\. Lost.**

_He was glad to see me. At least he was glad to see me. “Hey, what’re you doin here, huh?” he said, like I was the nicest surprise he’d had in a long while._

_Christ! I am so fuckin pathetic. Glad to see me! Not glad enough to drive the girls back to Alma. Not glad enough to let me spend the week—or even the night. Not even glad enough to offer a goddamn cup a coffee._

_Stupid paranoid sumbitch. **Him** stupid.  **I’m** the stupid one. Thinkin now he’s divorced means we’ll have a life together. Shoulda known better._

 

 

[](http://www.shinystat.com)  


 

 


	5. Drabbles 81-100

** A Collection of Brokeback Drabbles — Nos. 81 through 100 . **

Pairing: Jack/Ennis (canon, no A/U in this batch)

Rating: Language, graphic M/M sex here and there

Disclaimer: Annie Proulx invented them, Diana Ossana and Larry McMurtry expanded them, Ang Lee guided them, and Heath Ledger and Jake Gyllenhaal interpreted them. I promise I’ll put them back when I’m done playing.

Comments: Welcome.

______________________________________

**081\. Tease.**

It’s a game they both enjoy. Ennis pins Jack down and rubs his hard cock against Jack’s asshole. Sometimes slow, sometimes fast; maybe a feather-touch, maybe grinding hard. Who will give in first? Can Jack entice Ennis to plunge uninvited into his sultry depths? Or can Ennis get Jack to beg for it? Rule One: If Ennis puts it in before he’s asked to, Jack is the winner. Rule Two: If Jack says, “Fuck me,” or “Put it in,” or “Give it to me,” or even “Please,” before Ennis goes into him, then Ennis is the winner. There’s no loser.

**082\. Anger.**

Jack roped Ennis’s feet, bringing him down. It started as playful wrestling, but as soon as they touched Ennis was aflame—wanting to hold Jack, kiss him, make love to him on the grass, in the sun, one last time…

How could Jack **_laugh?_**  Didn’t he care? Did it mean so little to Jack, that their time together was over? And what kind of way was that for Ennis—any man—to be feeling? Ennis burned with rage, grief, self-hatred, despair.

Ennis found some small comfort knowing that Jack would bear his mark for a few days after they parted.

**083\. Shy.**

“Wanna watch it there! That horse has a low startle point!”

Ennis thinks:  _Well, that was a dumb thing to say. Like Jack hadn’t noticed, when it was him ridin her. Like I thought he couldn’t handle her. He’s good a-horseback. Maybe not so good as he thinks, but good._  


“Doubt there’s a filly that can throw **_me_**.”

Jack thinks:  _What I wanna go braggin and showin off like that for? This horse dumps me on my ass, I’m gonna look mighty dumb. He’s sure the quiet type. But he knows what he’s doin. Capable. Wonder if he likes me?_  


**084\. Love.**

This thing. That’s what I useta call it. Like it was outside a us. Like it was from somewheres else. Huh. Corny old line guys useta try to get their girl to put out—”This thing is bigger than both a us.” Yeah, and it surely was. Cause it come from both a us—Jack an me both. But it wasn’t big enough for me to take a chance on it. And it wasn’t big enough for Jack to keep his dick in his pants and not get noticed and killed.

But “that thing” was love, I know that now.

**085\. Hate.**

  
_Randall Malone._  Lureen’s eyebrows came together in a hard line.  _Oh, I knew. Tried not to, but I knew. Heard rumors bout Jack’s ways even before we got married. And those Wyomin fishin trips. Wonderin maybe, maybe not. Decidin no. Knowin yes. Couple times a year in Wyomin. Then Mexico, too. Outa sight. Safe. And then Randall. And then scandal._  She choked on a sound that was part laugh and part sob.  _And now Jack’s dead and I’ve gotta tell lies about it. I hope they get Randall, too, and that he burns in hell for bringin this on us._  


**086\. Found.**

Ennis opened his eyes to a pale, misty dawn, very unlike the red glare of yesterday’s awakening. He woke smiling—not a common occurrence—and his smile deepened and softened as the warm body behind him snuggled closer, tightening an arm across Ennis’ chest.

Somewhere in his mind were dozens of panicky, worrying questions. About his future, the summer’s end, Alma… About the significance of this new thing—to himself, to Jack, and to others who might learn of it.

But just for now, he wanted to ignore all that, and simply enjoy the warmth and peace of Jack’s embrace.

**087\. Life.**

_“You and Alma—that’s a life?”_

Took him more’n fourteen years, but he finally admitted Jack was right. It **_wasn’t_** much of a life, even back when he thought it was the best he’d ever get, and probly more’n he deserved. Poor excuse for a life before Jack Fuckin Twist came back, and even harder after.

Three years divorced now, and down another notch. He’s gone from not much to damn little to fuck-all of a life. Life with Jack, now—if it could be done, which it couldn’t, but **_if_** it could be done—now **_that_** woulda **_been_** a life.

**088\. Fear.**

Ennis pulled into the trailhead parking area, only vehicle there. No Jack. Ennis was early, he knew, but…

_“Yeah, alright,” Jack had muttered. “See you next month, then.” And drove off._

That was last month. Ennis got out of the cab, took a turn around the graveled lot. Lit a cigarette, had a few drags, then crushed it with a sharp twist of his boot. Looked back along the access road. Nothing.

_Fourteen hours Jack had driven—for a quick hug, and a kick in the teeth. He’d left quickly, turning away to hide the hurt._

Ennis paced and waited.

**089\. Hero.**

He could do anything: ride a horse or a bull, rope a calf or a boy pretending to be one. They’d pitch a tent in the backyard and build a fire, even though Mama didn’t like it, and they’d eat beans out of the can. (He’d always say “No more beans!” but they’d always have beans again the next time anyway.) Or they’d go to the dealership and ride all the tractors and combines around the lot. Grandpa would holler that it was a waste of time and gas, but he’d do it anyway. Who else could face down Grandpa?

**090\. Villain.**

“Ya call them horses **_groomed,_** boy?” the stockboss shouted harshly, brandishing the curry comb with its circle of metal tines.

The stableboy, clad only in jeans and boots, cringed. “I done my best, honest!”

“Why, I oughta take this to yer pretty pink backside—show you what a **_good_** curryin is!”

“Oh, please, Master, no!”

The stockboss snickered. “Master?”

“Ennis.”

“ _‘Oh, please, Master, no!’_ ” mocked the stockboss. He threw back his head and guffawed.

“Goddamnit, Ennis!” protested the stableboy.

“Jack, you want to play this silly game, you’re gonna hafta try not to say stuff that’s gonna make me laugh.”

**091\. Slave.**

“Ya call them horses **_groomed,_** boy?” the stockboss shouted angrily.

The stableboy cringed. “Done my best, honest!”

“Why, I oughta take that currycomb to your hide—give **_you_** a good curryin!”

“Don’t, boss. Please, I’ll do better.”

A malicious grin crossed the stockboss’s face. “First you say you done yer best. Next you say you can do better. Boy, you are one miserable, lyin, snivelin, cowardly yella dog.”

The stableboy snickered. “‘Miserable, lying, sniveling, cowardly yellow dog,’ Ennis? ‘ ** _Sniveling?_** ’”

“Fuckit, Jack, now don’t you start!”

“ ** _Sniveling!_** ” The stableboy collapsed in fits of helpless giggles.

“You asshole,” said the stockboss affectionately.

**092\. Freedom.**

A few minutes in a courtroom, a piece of paper, and everything was changed. Ennis hadn’t expected it to hit him so hard. After all, he’d moved out months ago; the visitation schedule was already in place; he’d been paying child support all along…

And yet… “Divorce granted,” and the bang of the gavel took him like a sucker punch—hard, unexpected, disorienting.

He wished Jack was here. He got out a postcard and wrote:

** Jack— **

** The divorce got final last week. I don’t  
hardly know how to feel or what to do  
with myself. See you soon, bud. **

** Ennis **

**093\. Quest.**

Jack Twist sat in the public library, a stack of phonebooks on the table before him. His first search had produced an E. del Mar, but when he called, it wasn’t Ennis. His second try found several del Mars who might have been Ennis’s brother, K.E. But none of them was.

Jack’s third strategy was to call every Beers in the Wyoming phonebooks, hoping that one of them would be related to Alma. The first directory—Casper/Laramie—yielded a dozen listings. He carefully wrote them all down, then turned to the next book.

If this didn’t work, he’d check out Montana.

**094\. Journey.**

Ennis started out early the day before, even though it was only a little over 100 miles—maybe two-and-a-half hours in a car; three or more in a big rig, slowing to a crawl up the mountains. K.E. drove him out to the main road, they punched each other genially, and then K.E. drove off and Ennis stuck out his thumb. He got rides quickly, but just for short stretches. Hit Riverton before noon, visited a while with Alma and her family. Waited more’n four hours for his next ride, only took him to Lander. Finally hit Signal about 5:30AM.

**095\. Triumph.**

Alma checked the bedside clock—1:30AM.  _Home real late this time_ , she thought. She listened to the muted sounds of Ennis putting his fishing tackle away. Then the refrigerator door—open, pause, close.  _Fish?_  Paradoxically, she felt a pang of angry disappointment.

“So how was the fishin,” she asked, yawning, as Ennis came into the bedroom.

“Not bad.”

“D’ya bring some home?”

“Unh-uh. Caught us some browns, but we ate em.”

“Mm.”

Next morning, there was the virgin line.  _Never touched water in its life._  There was her note still tied there:

** Hello, Ennis,  
Bring some fish home.  
Love, Alma **

**096. _Writer’s Choice – Limits_.**

“Y’see, Ennis, K.E. don’t like to tell ya, but there just ain’t room for ya in that little place, once him n me’re married and livin there together.”

“Well. I can get a summer herdin job from the Farm and Ranch, I guess. Me an Alma’re gonna get married, too, pretty soon. So I guess it’ll work out okay.”

“That’s great. I’m real happy for ya. And I know K.E.’ll be, too.”

Later, when she told K.E. about Ennis’s plans, he asked, “You told him he was welcome a stay with us, didn’t you?”

“A course I did,” she said.

**097. _Writer’s Choice – Commitment._**

Ennis was stunned at the intensity of his emotions. This tiny, helpless being in his arms for the first time raised such overwhelming love and protectiveness in him that he could barely breathe.  Not usually given to prayer, he yet felt an intense desire—almost an entreaty—to be a good father, to do right by his child.

A teenage candy-striper fluttered around, giving advice that he scarcely heard. Ennis felt as though, for this one moment, he was exactly where he was meant to be, doing exactly what he was meant to do—holding and loving his infant daughter.

**098. _Writer’s Choice – Fallen_.**

“This is a one-shot thing we got goin on here,” he told Jack.

Ennis spoke the truth in those words. But not the truth as he then imagined it—a summer fling, soon to be dismissed with other boyhood pastimes—a brief interlude, an embarrassing remembrance in later life, but essentially meaningless. No; Ennis learned late, learned hard. That truth was deep and mortal.

It was like the single shot that dropped the elk, when the great creature had staggered and hesitated before it fell, as though it had merely been startled—had not realized that its life was lost.

**099. _Writer’s Choice – Anticipation._**

It’s his wedding night, and Ennis has had more to drink than he wanted, though less than his buddies had urged on him in the ancient let’s get the groom too drunk to perform tradition.

His expectations are high. Because he’s **_not queer_**. Which means that if sex with Jack was so much better than beating off alone, sex with a woman will be better still.

His fantasies lately are all of Jack, but that’s just because his only experience is Jack. He knows that sex with Alma will clear all that out of his head. He’s sure of it.

**100. _Writer’s Choice – Different._**

K.E. Del Mar is eleven years old. His brother Ennis is nine. “How come yours is different?” Ennis wants to know. His has a flap of extra skin that he needs to wash under. K.E.’s looks neater somehow.

“Cause I’m cut and you’re not.”

Ennis grabs his penis nervously. “Yours used to be like mine? When did they cut it off? Did it hurt?”

“At the hospital when I was born. Dad got real mad about it, but they couldn’t put it back, could they? So when you got born, he made sure to tell them not to do yours.”


End file.
